Page 83 of Lorenzo

Alessio notices.

“Very funny.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Answer your father,” Edoardo says.

Alessio looks back at me.

“Yes. Women approached me.”

“What about what happened the other night? A woman watching you, getting your attention. Trying to get you to approach her.”

He thinks.

“There was that woman near the stairs,” Tomasso says.

I can practically feel the table still around us.

I turn to him. “What woman?”

He turns to Dante. “Remember? The one woman who kept looking over?”

Dante frowns as he searches his memory. “She was looking at you all night.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“I don't know,” Tomasso says. “I was going to go over there, but suddenly she disappeared.”

“Did anything happen before that?” Ricardo shifts Cecilia in his arms when she starts fussing.

“I don't know, we were just—” Then Dante's expression clears. “Yes. Alessio left. We went to that restaurant before the club, and he ate like fifteen tacos. After a couple of whiskies, he had to barf. Then he went home.”

Matteo leans back. “Oh yeah, this was a couple weeks ago.”

“What did she look like?” I ask.

“Dark hair,” Dante says. “She was far away.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket, and I scroll through the pictures. I stop at one of the ones without my son plastered to the woman's face. Then I hand the phone to Dante.

He studies it for several seconds before passing it to Tomasso.

“Could be,” Dante says. “I can’t swear to it from that picture.”

Tomasso enlarges the image. “Definitely. I remember that dress. She looked damn good in it.”

The red dress.

“She was wearing the same dress?” I confirm.

Tomasso nods and hands the phone back to me. “Definitely.”

“Then Donna's theory is correct.”

“And that theory would be?” Diego asks.